


Crimson Chessboard

by Luciferase18



Category: Town of Salem (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, PTSD, Trauma, Violence, obsessive - Freeform, problematic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-24 14:31:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18573400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luciferase18/pseuds/Luciferase18
Summary: She cannot escape it, the mistrust, lies, and culling of her old town. Blood of the innocent indistinguishable from the guilty's, it's just the same shade of crimson. She ran, she ran to safety... not knowing what lies beyond the Town of Salem. She would never thought that she is forced to relieve the same nightmare again, but without her late father's shade to hide in.





	1. New Bloodshed

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for choosing this!  
> Fyi, I am Indonesian, so pardon the mistakes.

The silent girl place down her baggage upon the small home in the town of Salem. She closed down the door, sunlight beaming down the windows. Her baggage contained her needs, including few bulletproof vests. Worn, dented, and dirty.

She and those vests are silent witnesses. Nothing will go off from her mouth, about how terrifying her hometown is. Once a lively town, reduced to a deserted town painted by lies, deception, blood and mindless execution. She lived. In the wake of the deserted town, she stole supplies needed to survive. She stole the bodyguard’s bulletproof vests, including the one he had worn.

She ran, ran, ran…

Salem is her place to start.

She covered herself with a blanket and felt like wanting to hide. She had to get familiar to the townsfolk, or else they’ll think she is a weird freak. Maybe, at this point, she maybe is. She lived in the wake of a living nightmare. Unable to see people by their face, only assessing their silhouettes.

In her bedroom is a mirror. She looked like a cocoon, desperately wanting to hide.

She cannot be blamed. Her father was murdered by a rampaging werewolf, all while protecting the Mayor. The one who was hanged the next day is not the mafia—it’s the Medium. The Vigilante’s stray bullet pierced the Jailor’s head. An executioner lynching the Investigator. Everything was too late when it is revealed.

She laid down on the bed. Even though the sun is out, she doesn’t want to enjoy it to the fullest. At least, today, she wants to stay inside.

—

“You are the new Godfather.”

What is left from the Mafia peeved the Godfather’s successor. The Mafioso, Godfather’s biological son, puffed off a smoke.

“Well, the thing is… this town is pretty much dead, isn’t it. The last one not on our side just ran.” The new Godfather laughed. A fine young man with aristocratic clothing, tidy and very noble.

“Do you wish to chase after her?”

The Consort’s question piqued the Godfather’s interest. “Haha, well. I wished her father was not such a loyal bodyguard. She probably ran away after her father told nasty things about us. Heck, the one who stirred the situation is the werewolf!” The man laughed, as if he disregards the bloodshed the town had went through is a mere joke.

The Godfather picks up a chess piece in front of him, looking at it. A fine piece of King, in a dark shade of ebony.0

“What would a Queen do without her King?”

The chess pieces are in a mess on the board, every pieces fallen, including the Queen.

“Usual question. Then, what would a King do without his Queen?” he took the Queen piece, and makes it stand against all fallen pieces.

“What do you think?”

No one answered.

The young Godfather raised the two pieces against the light, he squinted his eyes a bit. “…well, nothing much. They could still rule their kingdoms. It’s just a little bit lonelier.”

The Godfather’s icy blue eyes look at his Consort, then his Consigliere, and lastly, his Forger. No one answered. They have acknowledge the young man’s dominance as the new Godfather.

“…Charlotte... is it? Our beautiful flower.” The Godfather called, his Consort lowers her head a bit. Her bright red hair slid off, obscuring a part of her face. “Yes, Godfather?”

“How about you become my Mafioso?”

The cunning Godfather lend his hand, as if offering something. A promotion. A Queen piece. Someone to get their hands dirty for the sake of their lovely Godfather.

The Consort might be a beauty, a beauty that is worthy to be preserved in a piece of fine marble carving. Yet, she is more than enough to get Godfather’s hands off from the dirty work of blood and murder.

“For the Mafia.”

The Godfather smiled, wide.

“Now, there is nothing to go after, here. This town is dead.” He said. The young man stood, looking at his subordinates.

“Let’s go.”

“Where to?” The Forger spoke.

“…well.”

The Godfather blew a smoke, and took his coat. “…Town of Salem as a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

—

BLAM!

 “—!”

The female survivor opened her eyes wide. She hastily rose up, still a cocoon that of her blanket. She then stood up, leaving behind her blanket, allowing the cold air of the night pierce her skin. Her breath suddenly raced, strongly hoping what she had heard is a mere illusion of her. Yes, yes, it’s not impossible. Those memories are carved fresh into her, it’s not surprising if it’s just a real-sounding illusion, yes? Yes?

_Yes?_

Her sweaty and cold hands hastily close off the windows that she had forgotten to close. She checked whether the door is locked or not. This space will be her quarantine. No one is going in, and no one is going out until the dawn breaks.

Her legs shake heavily, then she ran back to her sleeping quarters. She reached to her briefcase and her sloppy hands missed the locks. Her breathing rapidly raise and her sweat turns colder and colder, her hands beginning to feel numb.

When she managed to flip the locks, she heard the door creak open. Her eyes widen in absolute terror, followed by quiet steps. She looked down to the contents of her briefcase. Without thinking, she pulled out the bulletproof vest, her clothes scattering around the briefcase. It’s the least of her care.

She must survive.

She must survive.

She must survive.

The door to her sleeping quarters is broken down.

“FOUND YOU!”

The light blinded the face of the Serial Killer. She gasped, her vision blurry out of pure terror. No, no, no, no, no, no, no.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

She screamed and raised the vest, only supported by her arms, not worn properly. The killer raised his cold blade and swings it down to her. The worn blade, very used to tear the soft flesh of humans, failed to penetrate the vest. It tore its outer skin, but ultimately only adds a long dent on it. The deflection from the vest ultimately made the knife slide off from the serial killer.

She noticed the fallen blade, gleaming from the light. She frantically reached for it, but the serial killer suddenly landed a kick to her face.

“aa—!”

She fell off. The male then took his cold blade again, peeved of the fact that the girl just managed to defend herself. She is going to die, she _must_ die. His own insanity drives him to the overdrive, seeing how the girl defend herself all while having that helpless look plastered all over her face.

The Survivor scrambled as the male shadow towers over her. She could see a gleaming tint of its slightly dulled down blade going straight to her. She, still not wearing the vest, decided to swing the 2kg vest and it hits his hand, albeit not enough to make him lose the grip. The Survivor wheezed, trying to get away as far as she can.

“What is that noise?!”

The Serial Killer glanced towards the half-opened door. The door creak open, much to the Serial Killer’s shock. Nothing could go even more wrong at this point.

The serial killer suddenly ran to the door, and when the middle-aged man on the other side of the door shows himself—

A blade is jammed right to the crown of his head, through that old west-style hat of his. The golden badge of the Sheriff now covered in bright crimson, both of the killer and the victim’s silhouettes traceable from the dim moonlight from outside. The Survivor’s heart dropped, to the deepest of low, seeing as the innocent Sheriff fall to the ground like a ragdoll.

The Serial Killer’s knife is pulled from the man’s skull, now drenched in crimson. He stood, proud over his first kill. He let out a small laugh, as he then looked back to the girl. Her eyes are wide, desert dry, and she froze in place.

Having such a delicious prey on pure accident, the Serial Killer lost interest in such a plain girl having a vest. She even lacks a proper shield—she is not a bodyguard. No, there is nothing of interest in her quarters.

Just an outsider.

The Serial Killer smiled ear-to-ear, proud of his handiwork.

The Survivor’s vision turns completely blank, and she fell to the cold floor.

—Night 1: The Sheriff, Joseph, was killed by the Serial Killer.—


	2. Proven Innocent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last night, the Sheriff died upon the hands of Serial Killer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for picking this up!  
> I am Indonesian, please pardon my mistakes.

When the sun rises, not only chickens rang, but it’s also accompanied by a woman’s scream.

The Survivor’s eyes slowly open, to show its brilliant blue colour. Beside her is her worn bulletproof vest, torn and might not be able to protect her as well as it did. She felt sluggish, her body shooting up pain receptors as her muscles contracts, in order for her to sit up on the wooden floor.

“…?”

What happened…?

She sat in silence. She tried to pry open her memories, only to realize that—yes. Yes. Last night…

She saw a man killed by her attacker. It’s cold blade jammed right to his hat, then his skull. It created a grotesque sounds of broken bones, ripped flesh and spurting blood. The details coming in, the Survivor closed her mouth to hold back her urge to vomit. No, no, no, that must be a dream. Everything is very different, see? Now it’s very bright, a new day in the Town of Salem.

She sluggishly stood up, thinking to get food for the day. If one want to survive, they have to seize the necessary. She then hold her door, only to realize it’s not even closed properly.

The Survivor stopped on her tracks. Wait, no. She made sure the door is closed. It is, it is! She always close it, never so sloppily leaving it like that. Surely… surely that attack and the murder she witnessed is merely a dream.

Right?

_Right?_

She gently opened her door…

“Joseph, Joseph, oh my God! Please, please answer me!”

She widened her eyes at the view before her. A man, lying dead with his skull cracked open, with a woman in long garments crying over him. The woman had her dress dirtied by blood, her eyes tired of crying out, and repeats the same phrase over and over again.

“Did you kill him?!”

The Survivor looked up and eyes are on her. Distrust boils up, as she realizes the corpse is _right in front of her door_.

“no… no… I didn’t… I didn’t!” she shakes her head and her legs turn wobbly, but still capable of hosting up her weight. She began to wheeze, cover her mouth and tears began to form.

It’s true.

That _dream_ she saw, it’s true.

“Lies.”

A quite old man with fine suit looked at her with utter disgust. “Liar, you are obviously a liar!” he pointed. “Why is he in front of your door, then!?”

“Did you really kill my husband…?”

“Not again… not another serial killer…”

Noises fill her head and begins to choke her up. Her body froze and her voice cannot escape, but forcefully contained. She then leans to the doorframe, her legs shaking violently.

“Come with me, miss.” A bearded man then suddenly seized her arm. His violent hold immediately shock her, with the grip feeling like it is holding her very bones and disregard the little muscles she has.

“…wh… wha—“

She immediately fell due to the sudden pull by the man. He disregards her, and keeps violently dragging her to the center of the plaza. There, an old set-up of an upside-down L-shaped wooden pillar with a chair under it stood.

“We will get rid of the dangers ASAP.”

“Yeah, kill her!”

“We don’t need yet another serial killer!”

Her frail body then put against the chair, and she looked up. The sun is right against the man, towering over her. “…I… I didn’t do it.” She spoke, her voice very weak and full of fear. “I didn’t do it.”

“Lies. He died in front of your house.”

“I… I… I didn’t…”

“I lived in this town for years and I never saw your face until now.”

“Please…”

“You are the serial killer.”

“Please!!!”

“This started when you came.”

“Please!!!”

“It’s your fault.”

“PLEASE!!!”

Her knees hit the ground and she lowered her head to the ground. Her tears flow like waterfall, her body shaking in an intense fashion. “I DIDN’T DO IT!!! PLEASE, PLEASE!!!” She begged. The bearded man’s icy blue eyes look at her in distrust, and so does everyone else.

“Lynching her without proper proof is not good, yes?”

A slim hand then took hold on the bearded man’s shoulder. A younger man, dressed in a fine suit. His brown eyes goes well with his dark hair, all with a calm smile on his face.

“We do not need proof.” The bearded man insisted. “It’s obviously her!”

“What if the killer tried to frame her?” the young man argued. “Just because she is a newcomer, she is blamed? I am too, you know.” He sighed. “But you blame all of this to this one, fine lady?”

“What are you on? Are you siding with this wretched woman!?” the old man in fine suit came in. “Kill her, Jacob! What are you doing?! SHE IS THE KILLER!!!”

“Calm down,” The young man turns to the old man. “…Mayor.” He lowered his head slightly, at the paranoia-ridden old man, single-mindedly accusing the girl.

“I can confirm she is innocent.”

The town’s population circling the plaza frowned.

“Confirm…? What are you, an investigator?”

“no, no. But I do collaborate with one.” The young man shrugged, then he eyes on the population around her. “Elizabeth.” He called. “Come here, with your notes, please.”

A woman with dark hair came forward. She walked up to the young man, and gives him a small note. “Here.” She said. He then flipped through the pages, then he shows a part of it to the bearded man.

_Carries a heavy luggage._  
Subject is a loner.  
Subject shows unnatural level of fear.

“This heavy luggage makes her the killer, then!” the bearded man, Jacob pointed out.

“How can a scared person able to kill in such fashion, Jacob?” The younger man suddenly turn cold, his eyes felt like it is glowing. The aura immediately dropped, as if he is asserting his dominance against the older man.

It was followed by utter silence.

The young man then walked past Jacob and he kneeled over the Survivor, who is sobbing with her head on the ground. “…lift your head, little flower.” He called, giving her a calming pat on her back.

She finally lifted her head, eyes tired out of crying out so much clear fluid. Her blue eyes looked up to his, all while he is smiling. “…I didn’t… do it…” those words escaped her mouth. “I didn’t… I didn’t…”

The investigator, Elizabeth, is seen writing something.

“…I didn’t… I didn’t… I… I…”

“I know. You didn’t do it.”

The fine young man held her hand. He slowly kissed it, bewildering the already messed up girl. Utterly messed up by the accusation thrown to her. “…there is just no way a little flower like you be able to kill.”

The entire town is silent. Uneasy. Even if she is proven innocent, it doesn’t change the fact that there is a serial killer between them.

_“Emma, there is no more to trust at this point. Run, just run, leave everything that happened here.”_

Her old nightmare is relieving itself again. Her eyes look empty, devastated by the intense accusation. Eyes are on her, but it felt like time is… slowing down. Diluted. Everything is shaking, unstable, shaky.

Nothing is right.

Her nightmare followed her.

“Come, we have to bury the sheriff—“

“Then YOU are the serial killer!” the old man, the Mayor, pointed straight to the fine man. He frowned, not liking the mindless accusation.

“Excuse me?”

“You, YOU ARE THE SERIAL KILLER!!” the Mayor pointed. “Jacob, hang him! HANG HIM!”

The Survivor looked at the fine man, who still carries that calm look. “…mindless lynching is useless, Mayor.” He said. “All you have from me is losing a good townsfolk.”

“Lies, lies!!!”

“Sir, please.”

The woman with garments stained in red came over.

“…my husband… he won’t like this dispute. Please… let us bury him.”

The Mayor’s blank eyes look at her. The entire town looked at the unfolding events. The Mayor look dejected, for his two accusations being denied. “…but… but there is… a serial killer—“

“…he won’t approve of hanging someone innocent.” The woman smiled.

“I’ll help.” A man suddenly raised his hand. “I am a doctor. I’ll help you bury the sheriff. He had done a great work.”

“Me too.”

“Yeah…”

The young man in suit smiled, then he turns to the Survivor. “…can you stand?”

The Survivor nodded, then she gently stood up—only to fall right back down again. Her legs are too shaky to support her. “Ah… ahaha, I guess you have to rest here.” The man laughed.

The investigator, Elizabeth, looked at them. “Are you going to make love here or what?” she asked.

“Make love? Your jokes are so bizarre, Elizabeth. Of course not.”

Elizabeth stared at them, then sighed. “…whatever.” She said. She noticed the townsfolk beginning to move the sheriff’s body. “…there is still a pool of blood in front of your house. You gotta clean it, or at least get some help… maybe from that doctor.”

“Now, now, let her rest.” The young man laughed. “…what is your name, little flower?”

The Survivor stayed quiet for a while, as if forgetting her name. No, it’s just her still recovering from the shock.

“… …Emma.” She said.

“…Emma, is it.” The young man smiled. “my name is William.”

* * *

 

_“Emma, now listen to me.”_

_“You have to live. There is no hope in this town, the mafia is ravaging us. Even if we kill the godfather, there will be another to replace him. Take… this, as my keepsake for you.”_

_“…daddy?”_

_“Run, Emma. You have to run. You have to live! Don’t be subjected to lies and mistrust like we have suffered already!”_

_“Are you going to run with me, daddy?”_

_“… …ah… …of course, dear. One more night, one more night after I protect the Mayor… we will run, together.”_

Emma opened her eyes, then rises her head up. It’s her darkened room again. Her body felt tired, after helping burying the Sheriff and cleaning the blood in front of her house. She sighed, holding her head that is spinning.

She staggered and walked out from her bedroom to the kitchen, to quench her thirst. She took a glass full of water and gulps down upon it. She sat down, trying to recollect what the hell just happened. Such things happening to her… it felt unreal, yet it is very much _real_.

It’s like the nightmare that is her old town’s culling.

If her father had decided to run earlier from the town, she might be here together with her father. But, no. Fate decides to turn things around—the Mayor of her old town, died of suicide in the end. Her father’s sacrifice, protecting him from the Mafia is wasted. It was all for nothing.

…the Mafia?

The realization hits her and she hugged herself. No, no. What are the chances of mafia being in such a small town? There is no way they are following her, too. Yes, yes, there is no way. They work better in larger cities, yes? Not a small town like this.

Drowned in her thoughts, she wheezed and leaned to the wall. Then, she drinks the leftover water from her glass.

Just like that—

BLAM!

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!”

Someone died, again.

—Night 2—


End file.
